


The Very Thought of You

by amirmitchell



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M, can u beleiuve i think life is a JOKE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amirmitchell/pseuds/amirmitchell
Summary: boy meets girl, girl can't properly express her emotions, boy sleeps in girl's hallway and doesn't find that odd//lucaya diner au for almay





	

He doesn't think much of it when Zay suggests going to that little diner everyone is always talking about for lunch. They're both exhausted from their finals they’d finished off that morning, and Lucas didn't have to turn in his photography portfolio for his mentor to review until this weekend, so it seems logical- practically genius- to grab a bite at the restaurant in walking distance from their apartment. 

(“Plus,” Zay had grinned, “I heard that they have this crazy hot waitress that slips you an extra cookie in your takeout bag.”)

“You are ridiculous,” Lucas chuckles, trying to casually scan the room for the mystery girl when his friend darts for the booth in the corner.

It doesn't take long for him to find her; her laugh travels through the air contagiously from the counter where she's pouring a cup of coffee. She's very tiny, he notes when he gets a good look. She has to be the size of a twelve year old with an apron tied knotted around her waist to avoid it being loose. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, random strands framing her insanely beautiful eyes and the cute little dimples that indent her cheeks and he thinks that he can't even acknowledge the rumors because it'd be a fucking disgrace to acknowledge this girl as anything less than breathtaking, let alone a ‘crazy hot waitress’.

“Dude, are you coming?” Zay whines, pulling him out of his trance, “I literally gave you the seat with the little string to control the blinds so I wouldn't have to do it and if I leave with a farmer’s tan because you're drooling over a girl, you are paying for my spa day. You know I have sensitive skin.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, hurrying towards his seat. He attempts to adjust the shades so that the drama queen across from him can rest easy, but he ends up making a mess of them, managing to wrap his wrist in the cord and expose Zay to even more sun. 

“Oh, shit, that one's a little tricky!” Lucas hears from beside him, having little to no time to process the blonde reaching over him before carefully freeing his arm and fixing his accident in one fluid action. 

“I-uh, thanks,” he grins sheepishly, silently cursing to himself when he realizes that his nervous habit of his accent returning didn't miraculously disappear overnight. 

“I’m serving a real life Ranger Rick today, huh?” she teases as she pulls her pen and notepad from her apron pocket. “Must not be used to these _ big city contraptions _ .” She tacks on a thick southern impression for the end of her sentence, amused by the ears of her mystery Huckleberry turning red from embarrassment. “What can I get for you guys today?” 

“I'll have whatever you're selling, sugar,” Zay flirts without shame, pleased with the smirk he gets in return. 

“Not so sure you could afford it, hotshot, but I'll try to find you the next best thing,” she quips effortlessly, not even glancing back at him as she prepares for Lucas’s order. “Do you know what you'd like, Lonestar?” 

He replies that she can surprise him, and he's absolutely dumbfounded by the fact he can even form a sentence with her looking at him in any manner, especially without stuttering. 

“Ooh, I’m gonna make you regret that,” she says cheekily, turning her head when she hears her name from a few booths over and averting her attention towards her other customers. 

“Maya,” Lucas repeats softly, liking the way it feels rolling off of his tongue. He says it three times more, staring at Zay with the brightest eyes anyone has known on him since he was a little boy on Christmas. 

“ _ Maya, Maya, Maya. _ ”

* * *

He comes back to see her every day around the same time for the next week, taking interest in a lone barstool at the counter rather than a booth with a companion, and it seems like since he'd met her that first day, the buzz about the smoking hot waitress had tripled in frequency.

(Zay says it's always been this way, Lucas was just never interested enough to tune in. He also had doubts about love at first sight before seeing her, too, though, so Zay can't particularly trust his judgement regardless.)

They fall into a smooth routine nearly immediately; Lucas comes in and pretends to tip an imaginary cowboy hat, Maya laughs at him and puts in the same order he'd had the day before and he spends as long as he possibly can eating off of his plate so that they can spend every second she's not with someone else talking to each other. 

He learns that she's taking classes at a community college nearby so that her schedule can be more flexible and that she has her own place not too far from his. She's studying art, and he's assuming she's great at it because she is literally a masterpiece herself, and she has a best friend named Riley that's currently at a university in California. She doesn't like fish, and she knots her apron twice because it's less embarrassing than having to buy a children’s one, and she has worked at the diner since she was fifteen because when her mom was a single parent, she was also a waitress here before she moved to Florida with Maya’s stepdad. 

They bond over their favorite ice cream flavor being cookies and cream and the irony of him always being the tallest while she was never more than the shortest in her grade, and it's kind of blowing his mind, he thinks to himself, that such an amazing person has lived right in front of him all this time and they'd never once collided. 

(It's also kind of blowing his mind that a girl this fucking gorgeous is giving him more than the slightest time of day, too, though, so he tries not to get caught up in wondering too much before she realizes he's practically in a trance with her in his head.)

* * *

“Are you stalking me?” Maya inquires casually, setting down the platter of his eighth consecutive meal that she'd served him.

Lucas chokes on a bite of his burger at the accusation. “W-what? Pfft,  _ no _ .” Sure, he asked around for her shift once or twice, and he always flagged her down when walking through the door before another waitress could have his business, but that is nowhere near the point of learning her last name to find her on Facebook and search through  _ all  _ of her pictures to make sure there's no boyfriend or crazy surprises. 

(Possibly especially no boyfriend.)

“You've accidentally almost friended me like three times, Casanova,” she deadpans, stealing a fry from his plate. 

“And you’ve accepted my request like zero times,  _ Clutterbucket _ .” 

She wastes no time in smacking his bicep with a scoff. “Maybe if you stopped calling me that, I wouldn't ignore you,” Maya counters, grinning towards the door when a new set of customers walks in. “Plus, you just tried to tell me you're not stalking me while simultaneously calling me my  _ mother’s maiden name, _ you creep.”

He opens his mouth but shuts it immediately after realizing she's 100% right. 

(He googles how difficult it is to get a fake social security number before moving to Guam the second that she steps away.) 

* * *

“Becoming an entirely new person and fleeing the country really isn't as easy as you would hope,” Lucas groans to Zay, sprawled out on the floor to rot away in misery while his best friend snacks on the couch.

“Wow, it's almost like they don't want you to create a new identity where you're virtually untraceable…” 

“Zay, you're not getting this. I have officially scared her off,” Lucas sighs, slumping his shoulders in defeat and burying his face into his hands. It's killing him that he's ruined this, too, because he can't even think of the last time he'd connected with someone the way that him and Maya just clicked. “She called me a creep. I can never be in the same room as her again.” 

The other boy chuckles, appreciating seeing his usually put together friend chipping away at the thought of a girl. “She's really got you messed up, doesn't she?” He climbs down from his seat, patting Lucas’s shoulder and laying beside him. 

“...Maybe it'll be easier to get into Venezuela.” 

* * *

He doesn't show up for lunch the next day, or the day after that. In fact, he manages to spend a full ninety-six hours in absolute miserable solitude before he hears from her.

“I, um…hey.”

Lucas glances up to the source of the quiet greeting; his favorite waitress standing at his open bedroom door in her uniform, anxiously chewing her bottom lip as she interrupts him sorting through some photos he’d taken the night before.

“Look, I swear I'm not some psycho and I definitely didn't plan to just come to your apartment, but I ran into your roommate on my way to work this morning, and then he told me your address and that I could stop by after my shift ended if I brought food- which I did, it's on your counter with some cookies for Zay after inviting me to come to your place like that's not wildly inappropriate-because I wasn't sure why you'd just stopped coming for lunch, and I just…” All of Maya’s words come out in the same breath, and, while adorable, Lucas starts to feel guilt pool in the bottom of his gut as he observes her eyes locked on her hands, partially folded in front of her while she fiddles with a ring. Her stance reminds him of a small child, one that had been building up the courage all afternoon to say words that ultimately terrified them. (He can only assume that the alarming timid vibe she's radiating stems from fear.) “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

He doesn't even have a response at first. He starts to worry that she’s going to realize just how shitty it was that he'd fallen off the face of the earth.

“Oh god,” she states frantically, not taking his silence as a good sign, “this is so fucking weird. You probably think I'm some lunatic that just tracks anyone down that shows the slightest bit of politeness. I’m gonna go, I am so sorry.” Lucas can see her cheeks starting to turn a deep red before she spins around and rushes away. 

“No, wait! Maya!” he calls out, struggling to get up from the seat at his desk and reach her before it's too late. “It's fine,” he promises, skidding when he practically throws his body in her path and she nearly collides into his chest. “I thought you thought  _ I _ was a psycho because you had said that thing about stalking, and I realized like I kinda did a little bit and that's not cool because I invaded your space, and so I made this plan to move to Guam after finding a new identity, or maybe Venezuela if they'd have me, where I’d probably have to go deep undercover as like a bartender to try to get big tips before I’d sell my body as a last resort and eventually end up murdered in an alley because I've only really seen episodes of those crime shows to go off of that I would absolutely be the victim on, and...” he pauses when he notices her attempt to stop the grin spreading on her lips,”...I'm seeing now that you probably started laughing as soon as I mentioned being an undercover bartender to avoid you, and I'm making a complete idiot of myself.” 

She can't suppress the snicker bubbling in her chest. “Do you realize that you just gave me this whole little spiel about going deep undercover and selling your body because you  _ invaded my space _ ?” Lucas stares blankly at her, unsure of why she'd find his intrusion so funny. “HeeHaw, I just walked into your bedroom unannounced to ask where you've been when you've known me for a little over a week because when I looked you up, I didn't accidentally send you multiple requests like a giant dork.” 

“You looked me up?” Lucas asks dumbfounded, making sure he heard her correctly since he's already a bit distracted by just how light his heart feels when she looks at him that way and her nose crinkling when she smiles so wide.

“Of course, I did,  _ Lucas Joseph Friar of Austin, Texas _ ,” Maya smirks, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat as a formality. “You're not the only one with a phone.”

He scoffs when she brushes past him, mentioning that she really needs to get home before it gets too late. “Bye, Zay. Thanks for the help!” she calls out, waving her fingers in Lucas’s direction. “I'll see you at lunch tomorrow, Huckleberry. If you're late, I'm sending out a task force.” 

He shakes his head at her as she saunters her way through the exit, in a small daze when he mimics her path so he can lock his front door. He almost doesn't even notice his phone vibrate in his pocket, flashing a notification that he never thought he'd see. 

**_Maya Hart has sent you a friend request._ **

* * *

Lunch turns into dinner on the nights that he has his English course, but neither of them seem to mind. They are honestly just happy to see each other, and they both find it amazing how easily they connect.

(Sure, Maya gags when she tells him what a cliché it is to meet someone that she feels she can be honest with, but he still counts it.)

* * *

“You look like hell,” Lucas comments, taking his seat one Thursday afternoon. He’d spent the entire morning with his family, and she's setting down a cup of coffee before he can even ask for it.

“I would argue that I woke up late, but you don't look much better,” she snorts, sliding over the sugar after putting a splash of milk in his mug. “How'd brunch with your parents go?” 

“They made me call everyone,” he groans, setting his head onto the counter with a pout. “I just want to know why they ambush me like that. Everyone wanted to know why I haven't brought a girl home yet or why I didn't visit for Christmas. I guess no one figured out that maybe it's because I don't love being  _ surrounded _ by  _ chaos _ .”

Don't get him wrong, he loves his family, but they're just so much to handle sometimes. With six cousins, two brothers, and three sisters, he had quite the full house growing up- and that's not even counting adults. Granted, it was a huge place that his great grandfather had built himself, but that didn't take away from the fact that he actually lived a modern version of Cheaper by the Dozen on steroids. He went to a school on the other side of the country to escape the frenzy of such a large family, and a sneak attack this morning only reminded him of how happy he was to have one roommate and his own bed free of a ladder and mattress attached in the air above him.

“It couldn't have been that bad,” Maya reasons, patting the top of his head gently. “They all love you. It's just curiosity.” 

“Why can't they be curious about someone else?” 

“That'd take all the fun out of it,” she teases, shaking her head at his whining. He peeks up at her, enjoying the view of her grinning down at him caringly. 

Then again, he enjoys any view of her. 

* * *

After they finally exchange numbers, he's more than pleased by the fact that facetiming is now an available resource to communicate with. Yeah, it's definitely not a date, but it's about as close to it as he might ever be, so he'll take it.

(While applying for a job as a local little league coach, he wonders if he should put struggling to gather the balls to ask Maya to hang out sometime after work on his resumé. He sure is fucking great at it.)

* * *

“I don’t think I’d be any good at photography,” she admits to him one evening. He had just finished telling her all about his portfolio that he sent to an _actual travel magazine_ , and he can barely even touch his sundae she’d given him from how nervous he is.

“I've always liked it,” he admits, using his spoon to scoop up the cherry and hold it out for her to steal. “It’s a way to capture the world in a light I could never recreate.” 

Maya nods to his explanation, taking the bite of his dessert without hesitation as she wipes down a few menus. “It's always been something I could never quite find the hang of. I mean, I’ll take pictures to use as references, but I usually just draw or paint what I take from the view. Photographs show things a bit too literal for me to really understand them, but that just shows that people define art in different ways which is cool.”

“What do you define art as?” Lucas wonders aloud. 

“Entering another universe is how I’d describe it. You find yourself in someone else’s vulnerability, and that's kinda insane, y’know?” Maya tells him. “It’s knowing a secret someone wasn't even aware of holding. What about you?” 

It's her, but he knows how she feels about clichés, so he bites his tongue and shrugs instead.

* * *

He starts walking her home each night after she reveals that she's actually terrified of being out in the dark.

“I know it's dumb because I'm not some little kid,” she had mumbled, “but it's no secret that I'm not the most threatening physically and the shit that happens out there is kinda frightening.” 

“Well, I'll walk you home,” he insisted, and he stays true to it even when he's not getting any food. She offers to do something in return- _ anything  _ in return- because her safety isn't enough, no matter how many times Lucas attempts to argue that it is, but he repeatedly refuses an exchange over a task he's pleased to do, and so without gaining a single thing but peace of mind, he pretends she’s not blushing each night when his hand presses into the small of her back protectively under the moon, and she pretends not to feel so damn safe under his touch.

(She finds herself thinking that clichés aren’t so bad anymore after kissing his cheek in front of her door and humming a sweet song that reminds her of dancing before bed.) 

* * *

“You guys are gettin’ pretty cozy, huh?” Zay asks his roommate, pointing towards the spare hoodie Lucas is grasping.

“It's nothing,” the taller boy assures, draping the sweatshirt over his arm and stuffing his phone into his pocket. “She always forgets her jacket and ends up freezing. It's only a walk home and the easiest way for her to stay warm.”

“Dude, your favorite thing to do is walking her home nowadays. I'd call that more than nothing.”

His favorite thing to do actually occurs when she skips breakfast; he pulls her by her waist onto his lap and ungraciously maneuvers her in such a way that he can pop a french fry between her teeth. He loves that when he doesn't think for just a minute, it feels like they're the only people on Earth, but that's nothing, he supposes. 

* * *

He finally asks her out on a Friday afternoon for that evening, and, much to his surprise, she accepts nonchalantly. Lucas suggests getting dinner somewhere she doesn't work, and then maybe going to the tiny bakery that some girl in his literature course who repeatedly offers him free sweets works at, claiming it to be a fun and cost efficient evening.

“Sure, sounds fun,” she grinned to him when he took the leap. “I just need to go home and shower away all the leftover grease I absorb into my pores serving you french fries night and day, but I should be ready by like six? Pick me up then?” 

He thinks he gave some sound of acknowledgement, but, if he's being honest, everything is a blur from ‘ _ Sure, sounds fun _ ,’ to his current location of Maya’s front door, a single sunflower he'd gotten from Zay’s personal garden the he awkwardly grips like a kindergartner that found a dandelion at recess. 

He knocks three times before she answers, and he swears it opens in slow motion. 

(He wishes it weren't really creepy to sneak a picture because boy does he want to brag to Zay.) 

The funny thing about it is that it's not like he doesn't know Maya is beautiful- because he does- it's just (holy shit!) is she otherworldly when he sees her out of her uniform for the first time. It hadn't ever occurred to him that she would be wearing an actual outfit to dinner, and in no fucking universe would he have been prepared to see Maya step out in a simple black sweater, jeans, and knee high boots. 

He almost wants to scream because she's not even dolled up in some extreme way, it's genuinely a day to day outfit, but all that leaves his lips is a mumbled, “Woah…” before her entire face falls blank, scanning him head to toe. 

“Oh no,” Maya frowns, her eyes focused on the gift in his hands. “You thought this was a date. Oh no.” 

And before he can register that she is not on the date he thought was starting, she's jumping back inside and slamming the door in his face. 

“Maya?” he calls out curiously, knocking twice more almost an entire minute after the occurrence. Much to his disappointment, she doesn't reappear. It's radio silence for nearly forty more seconds- the longest forty seconds in history- and then his phone buzzes with a text that makes his little cowboy heart sink lower than it already had with the initial rejection. 

_ Please just go home. I'm sorry.  _

He blinks towards the screen, his lips forming a fine line before he taps his closed fist against her door hesitantly.

“I'm not leaving,” Lucas tells her, deciding on the spot to his left being a suitable place to sit patiently. “Something is wrong, and I'm not leaving you until you're okay, whether you like it or not.”

* * *

Nearly five hours pass before she emerges, clad in pajamas with red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. He's still there, his back pressed against the wall of the corridor and his head tilted uncomfortably onto his shoulder as he softly snores. He has the stem of his sunflower in a limp hand and a tiny pile of petals he had plucked off in boredom beside it.

It's enough to make her heart swell. 

“Huckleberry…” Maya whispers, moving close enough to tap his shoulder. “Huckleberry, wake up. You're not spending the night in my hallway.” 

Lucas can't contain the soft groan escaping him as he stretches his back, taking a second to recover from his rest before looking up at her. 

“You've been crying,” he observes tiredly. 

“Well, aren't you just one slick shooter?” she teases with her hand out. “C’mon, we need to talk.” 

He obliges, climbing up and following her into her apartment and taking a seat once she guides them to the couch. “If you don't want to talk, we don't have to,” Lucas says quickly. “When I said that I wasn't leaving until you’re okay, I just meant smiling and at ease and not crying your eyes out without a soul to help.” 

Maya nods, plopping down beside him with a huff and folding her hands in her lap. “So… last night we had a date…” 

“Or so I thought,” Lucas chimes in, trying to ease the uncomfortable expression on her face. 

“Right, or so you thought, and I just… You...” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, desperately trying to find the words she wants to use. “Lucas, I don't have friends,” she winds up blurting out. 

“Why are you calling me Lucas? Aren't we friends? What about Riley? I thought that was your-” 

“No, I don't have friends  _ here _ . I don't have anyone here. I have my mom in Florida, and I have Riley on the other side of the country, and I have Izzy in Europe studying abroad with Missy. I… The last time I had someone here, it was everyone after we’d graduated, and that summer they all went to where they needed to go and I just… Well, I stayed.” She pulls a tiny pillow under her lap, fidgeting with the tag as her voice shrinks smaller and smaller. “I mean, I have regulars at work that know me or people in class I'll talk to, but it's never more than that.” 

“I don't understand why that means I slept in your hallway, though,” he tells her in a confused tone. 

“The last time I hung out with anyone, I was a senior in high school, and when everyone went their ways, it  _ crushed  _ me. I spent months trying to adjust to not having them right here, and it took even longer to finally find a routine that made me any emotion in the realm of happy. I don't have ‘date Bucky McBoingBoing’ in my schedule. I didn't know what to do with you, so I panicked.” 

Lucas listens intently, reaching out and softly grasping her hand with his. He hates how lonely she must be, never mixing anyone else into her day. She's nervous about changing that, which is understandable, and so he comes up with an idea that he thinks will please both of them. “Alright, just hear me out, okay?” He pauses until she confirms. “A date is a big thing, so we can just brush that aside for right now. I also would like to point out that I have no plans of leaving anytime soon, so we can also cross that one off. You're not getting rid of me so easy.” The corners of his lips turn up when he notices the little sigh of relief she lets out. “Do you like spending time with me?” She doesn't hesitate before answering yes. “Okay, so I propose a friendship, a  _ real  _ friendship. No dates, nothing with that pressure, but hanging out when we get the chance and working our way to more. It's a little hard on my heart that you're getting paid to talk to me and I get nothing for dealing with you stealing my food without permission.” 

Maya breaks out into a chuckle, her entire presence relaxing with a roll of her eyes. “Shut up, dumbass.”

“There she is,” he beams, dramatically standing and lowering himself onto his knee. He grasps her left hand tenderly, bringing it towards him. “Now, Maya…” 

“Penelope.”

“Oh boy, we are definitely coming back to that,” he quips. “But, as I was saying, Maya Penelope Clutterbucket Hart, will you make me the happiest man alive, and please be my friend?” 

“I can't believe you're actually eight,” she mutters before her voice drops down to an anxious mumble. “We can take it at our own pace? And you realize I might probably still panic when you show up and hide for five hours, right?”

“You can slam as many doors in my face as you'd like, ma'am, and I will still be sitting outside until you don't need anymore time to yourself,” he swears.

She smiles genuinely at him, giving his fingers a light squeeze. “Yes, Lucas Joseph Huckleberry Ranger Rick McBoing etcetera Friar, I would love to be your friend.” 

“She said yes!” he yells out, jumping to his feet and holding his phone in the air. He makes a scene of typing on it obnoxiously. 

“What are you doing?” she giggles. 

“I'm telling everyone I know that Maya Penelope Clutterbucket Hart totally likes spending time with me, you giant fucking nerd. What a loser.” 

She doesn't bite back. Instead, she lets him have his moment of glory (even though he'd legitimately just proposed to her). 

She'll get him next time. 

* * *

“What's an eight letter word for irritating?”

Lucas has the crossword in the paper spread out in front of him, his mug slowly being drained of coffee on their lazy Sunday evening in the diner. 

“Sundance,” Maya snickers as she refills the condiments for each table. 

“Y’know, Maya Hart fits the spaces, too,” he tries to counter, but slumps his shoulders in defeat when she doesn't even give him the satisfaction of a glance over. “Are you getting geared up for Christmas?” 

“Oh! Christmas! Just one letter off and equally as irritating as Hopalong, Lonestar, and Sundance one more time ‘cause it's a crowd favorite!” 

“Maya Hart, a scrooge?” Lucas gasps, his hands smacking his cheeks a little harder than he'd intended. “Why doesn't that shock me?” 

Maya grumbles in his general direction. “God, why do you even care, Friar? It's not even Halloween yet. We still have a few weeks to dread the holidays.” 

Lucas ignores her negative response. “It's the best time of the year, Maya. Aren't you excited to see all your family?” 

Her family has to be visiting her, right? They can't possibly all be in other places during Christmas. 

“I'm not going to have anyone here for Christmas.” 

Or maybe they can. 

“We’re going to have a big Thanksgiving to kind of make up for it, but Riley’s celebrating with her new boyfriend and my parents booked some couples cruise months ago. Izzy and Missy are beyond excited to learn about traditions in other countries, so they're traveling.” Maya tries to hide just how much she's dreading having to take down the jack-o-lantern stickers on the windows and hang snowflakes. “Do you have some big, HeeHaw-tastic reunion planned?” 

Lucas nods understandingly when she passes the torch to a lighter topic; his overbearing bunch. “I'm heading to Texas for both of them, and my brothers and I are gonna camp out in our old barn. They just renovated it in the summer so we’re planning to break it in with a couple games from back when we were kids.” 

“Well, butter my biscuits and color me in awe,” she coos, pinching his cheeks. “Aren't you little rascals just the most darling things on this side of the river?” 

Despite the beaming grin on his face at her joke, he does try to fight back. 

“Do you even listen to me talk?” 

* * *

Somehow Lucas convinces Maya that for their Halloween volunteering at the youth center, they should do a couples costume.

Now, it doesn't happen without a fight, that's for sure, but when it does? Oh boy, does she get her bargain’s worth. 

“Let me get this straight… If I go out in this, you're buying me chimichangas for the  _ rest of our lives _ ?” Maya calls skeptically from behind her bedroom door. “Even if you die?” 

“I will leave my bank account information on a sticky note behind your favorite painting on your wall,” he replies, not naming a specific considering her favorite changes each week. Most recently, it hasn't even been a painting; it's a picture Lucas took of a park. He was assigned it for the community catalog, and wasn't even one that got used in the actual magazine, but Maya plucked it from the stack before Lucas could even notice. It was framed above her bookshelf the next day. 

“I still think this is stupid,” Maya makes sure he's aware, the click of her heels against her wooden floor making his eyes dance their way from the thick glasses on the bridge of her nose all the way down to the buttoned white blouse and pencil skirt constricting her steps. “Quit looking at me, Huckleberry, it's weird,” she frowns, adjusting her printed badge for _The_ _Daily Planet_. 

“I'm sorry,” Lucas gulps, his eyes wide and cheeks burning. He flattens out his own dress shirt, making sure just enough of it is open so that behind the camera around his neck, you can see the bold symbol of Superman on his chest. “You look… good.”

Maya doesn't give the compliment a second thought, shoving past him towards the exit so that she can race him to the elevator. “Well unless putting on that shirt magically gave you the ability to fly me over New York traffic, I suggest you pick your jaw off the ground and get moving, Smallville.”

* * *

Lucas accidentally crashes Riley and Maya’s weekly virtual catch up date, and when he offers to leave because he doesn't want to intrude, Maya assures him that it's okay and that Riley is harmless.

Said harmless girl then proceeds to threaten to hunt him down like a dog if he does as much as be late for dinner with her Peaches. 

(He doesn't think that Riley likes him very much.)

* * *

They like to slow dance late at night; it's in his apartment after they finish dinner with Zay. While their friend secludes himself to his bedroom, Lucas always manages to start playing whatever Michael Bublé song is next on his playlist for Maya.

(Tonight it's The Very Thought of You, and so he  _ insists  _ that they clear the coffee table for a proper dance floor.) 

“You do realize how incredibly cheesy this is, right?” Maya blushes, still not use to his impromptu serenade sessions.

He hums the instrumental leading to the outro off key, swaying her against his chest to the soothing melody. 

“ _ I see your face in every flower…”  _ He dips her while following along with the lyrics, stumbling slightly off balance, not being able to hold back the chuckle they share. 

“ _ Your eyes in stars above… _ ” He points towards the ceiling, ignoring her snort at the gesture. He twirls her smoothly during the chorus. “ _ It's just the thought of you… the very thought of you… _ ” And just as she turns back into his chest to close the dance move, he raises his hand from her waist to brush his knuckles against her crimson cheek. 

She smiles tenderly at the dopey grin on his lips, very slowly rising to her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, finishing off the song. “... _ my love.” _

* * *

Maya often reminds him that she hasn't forgotten about the possibility of them dating.

“I really appreciate what you're doing,” she tells him, curled into his side on a Saturday night. “I know that it must be hard, and I know that there are probably other girls out there ready to jump full force into things with you.” 

It embarrasses her sometimes, how fragile she is. since that first night, she'd still isolated herself at his arrival four, maybe five, times, and- like clockwork- he is outside her door until she's ready. He's always waiting to make sure that she's ready. 

Lucas’s uses the position of his arm around her to play with her hair lazily, his free hand finding her palm flat on his chest and interlacing their fingers. 

“It must be mighty unfortunate for them that you're the only one that I want.” 

* * *

Lucas has never seen her as happy as she is the evening after Thanksgiving.

She picks him up from the airport after dropping Riley off, a lucky coincidence that their respective flights coordinated nearly perfectly, and they share a pretzel at the Auntie Anne’s that's right at the entrance of the food court. 

“It was so great!” Maya beams, taking a sip of the smoothie she'd gotten him to buy her. “We played so many games, and my mom is maybe thinking about having another baby with my stepdad which is terrifying, but also, wow, and Izzy is planning on getting an apartment in Europe after graduating, and Missy met this guy that can actually put up with her, and I just…” Her cheeks are flushed from how quickly she's running out of air by talking a mile a minute, and his heart is practically palpitating seeing her shine as brightly as the sun. “Everyone's gone already because Riley was the last to go, so that sucks, but now I'm with you and that's not the worst thing in the world. How was your trip?” 

He's going to come back with something witty, but then he remembers what he'd tucked into his carry on. “I got you a present,” Lucas smirks, unzipping his backpack and pulling out a cowboy hat that matches the one in his bedroom she’d made fun of while helping him back for his trip. He places it gently on her head, laughing loudly at the eyebrow she raises. 

“Lucas Friar, you are the ugliest person I have ever met in my entire life.” 

* * *

The high of being surrounded by all her loved ones only lasts for a few more hours, then followed by the slump of coming home to her empty apartment with containers of food she’ll never finish in her fridge and Riley’s favorite lip gloss forgotten on her coffee table like it is every time her best friend stays over.

She drags her feet towards her bedroom, not even bothering to take off her shoes before climbing beneath her covers and pressing her face into her pillow with a long sigh. She won't see her family again until Easter, most likely, and by then Riley could be engaged or her mother pregnant or Missy both. 

God, is her life depressing. 

“Shortstack? You really shouldn't leave your door unlocked. I could've been a killer.” Lucas’s voice travels through her hall and into her room. He takes a moment to locate her, pursing his lips into a sad smile when he sees her slumped under her blankets, melancholy as ever. 

“If only I were that lucky,” she mumbles, peeking up and catching a glimpse of a box in his hands. “What's that?” 

“Oh, right,” he chuckles nervously, setting it on her mattress. “It's your hat, and I got you boots to match them. You can't have one without the other.” 

Maya sits up, eyeing the present questionably. “You really didn't have to get me anything.” 

“I know,” he shrugs. “You were just on my mind, is all. I saw them with my brother when we were picking up some stuff for my mama to cook dinner, and before I could even realize what was going on, they were paid for and that was that. Figured I could maybe take you square dancing one of these nights, now that you have the proper attire.” 

She undoes the top of the container, unable to stop her little snicker towards the details in the dark leather of her new shoes. “I suppose that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.” 

(She also supposes that her life may not be as depressing as she thinks.) 

* * *

She’s making some breakfast when Lucas walks right into her apartment on a Tuesday morning, using the key she had given him for emergencies that he definitely prefers over actually knocking anymore.

“What's cookin’, good lookin’?” he flirts, stepping behind her and snatching a piece of bacon from the small plate of finished food. 

“You're such a dork,” Maya snorts, and he pecks the top of her forehead in agreement. 

The action, one that has occurred many times, sparks something in her- a need to know what more would feel like- and so, like any sane person, she asks him if she can try something out really quickly.

(He's never been one to tell her no.)

Cautiously, she rotates her body from the stove, chest to chest with Lucas from how closely he'd already been standing, and blinks up at him with a nervous smile. She has to be on her tiptoes for her arms to reach around his neck enough to pull herself up the rest of the way, but with the help of him tilting down his face out of intrigue, she manages to press a tender kiss to his lips. 

It's much less explosive than he's ever imagined, substituting what he thought would be fireworks with the smooth rush of warmth throughout his body. He can feel her sigh against him, her hold getting tighter when his hands grip her waist, and instead of some exciting, aggressive encounter, its serene. He's in bliss, and when she pulls away, he's dazed by her teeth tugging at her bottom lip in an attempt to hide her surprisingly giddy composure. 

“Okay, cool,” she giggles out, shaking her head at his silly look before she resumes breakfast. 

“Right,” he whispers back, practically almost speaking to himself. “Cool.”

* * *

Lucas is ridiculously clumsy on skates, falling on his ass twice while Maya manages to glide around him in three perfect twirls, taking a good two minutes to offer a hand- and, even then, he manages to pull them both down onto the ice, the only benefit being how bundled together they need to land to avoid their limbs being sliced off by any other pair of blades in the packed rink.

“I already told you that we can just go back to my place before we have to leave for the airport.” Maya rolls her eyes when she needs to use all her strength to get him back on his feet. “You're terrible at this.” 

“Nope,” Lucas refuses, “I told you that I'm giving you an entire day of tourist nonsense, and-” 

“Well, I told you that moving your trip from the 18th to Christmas Eve just so that you could spend it with me is enough to last me ‘til February,” she finishes off. “Let's at least go get some hot chocolate or something, you're terrible at this.” 

He's about to protest- what he'd done when she begged him to just lay in bed together throughout their breakfast with Santa, hour and a half sledding, sharing sandwiches he'd made along 5th avenue, letting her pick out like ten gifts from the holiday market, the ride to Dyker Heights as soon as the sun set enough for the lights to be visible, and finally skating in Central Park- but when his phone buzzes with a text from Zay, he acts like he's caving in to her relentless attempts to watch cheesy movies under her covers. 

“Fine, we can probably fit in the Grinch if we hurry back, but I am not watching Rudolph again before I go. You know that I'll cry.” 

Maya claps her hands together eagerly, not even bothering to make fun of him for crying during Rudolph but not when the Grinch literally saves Christmas for all of Whoville and learns the true meaning of love, but instead interlacing their fingers and leading him to the nearest taxi, unwilling to spend any more unnecessary time in the cold. 

“That was fun and all, but I'm fucking freezing.” She shivers as he tugs off his coat and places it over her shoulders, making sure his sweater is zipped tightly when they arrive. 

“Yeah, I guess I could've picked a few more indoor things to do-” 

“Or  _ any _ indoor things to do…” 

Lucas covers her eyes with his hands as soon as she unlocks her door, informing her of one last surprise for the night when she tries to pry them from her face. 

She almost wishes she hadn't when she gets a good look at her apartment. 

There are paper snowflakes hanging from every inch of her living room ceiling, and multicolored strands of tinsel line her walls that are covered in cheesy cardboard candy canes and elves. Ceramic musical houses with tiny lights inside are set out in a display on her coffee table with a toy train running through at full steam. She can smell the cinnamon of the pine cones in a basket on her bookcase, and, in the center of her home, a scrawny tree stands at a bit of an angle, done up in all sorts of lights and ornaments that hide practically any green, accompanied by a shimmering angel grinning down at her from the very top and presents hiding the silver tree skirt that is trying to peek out from the floor. 

“It would be fuller, but Zay could only carry the runt of the lot by himself,” Lucas explains quietly, taking a step forward and wrapping an arm around her waist. “He sends his wishes, but he had to catch the last plane to Austin with any available seats.” 

Maya whips her head in his direction, her brows knitted together in pure confusion. “But you-” 

He shakes his head. “I am staying right here, spending my favorite holiday watching the favorite Christmas movie of my favorite girl that I hope to make my girlfriend, if she'll have me.” 

He doesn't notice that she's crying until she lets out a little sniffle, wiping a tear away harshly and smacking his chest with all her strength. “You stupid huckleberry stupidly making me cry like a stupid idiot with your stupid plan to win my stupid heart.” 

Lucas beams down at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while she grumbles in his direction. “Do you have dating me in your schedule yet? It's okay if you don't. You can just hold my hand while you sob over an evil Christmas stealing yeti like you usually do.” 

“You know I cry over his dog, asshole,” Maya snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “And maybe I did until you decided to slander the best character arc in all of history excluding Zuko in Avatar and the old guy from Up.” 

He chuckles at her sarcastic comeback, shifting their stance so that he can easily give her a soft kiss. “So is that a yes?” he asks when he pulls away, only to be pulled back down against her lips immediately. 

“I can't fucking stand you.”

**Author's Note:**

> im 99% sure my next fic is gonna be hartford but here's this to keep u sustained


End file.
